


Like Lions

by booktick



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booktick/pseuds/booktick
Summary: And they came from the South, like lions.





	1. From the South

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohmytheon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/gifts), [bela013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise. 
> 
> A/N: This is going to be a Catwin fic, and I will make sure to tag it as such. I wanted a heads up on this. This is post-Red Wedding as well. Also, a before the fic "Weep for The Weak", and will lead into during as well as after the fic, since this will be a multi-chapter fic. In case anyone wants a fun look into the future or anything, you can go check out that fic, if you want.

* * *

 

The stitching had stayed the same as when she started. Slowly her fingers moved, sliding the needle and thread through the fabric. She barely looked up to look at the window when the birds landed to chirp at her, their sweet, sorrowful songs as if in a form of comfort only they knew. As a girl, Catelyn had told her father she wanted to be a bird.

They were able to fly away whenever they wished and the only fear they had was never known until they were in the bellies of man. Some birds were hunters themselves, she remembered her father, her father who held her by the ledge of a balcony to watch the streams below, to watch how nature took it’s course.

Lysa and she had been taught…

Fish were some birds’ favorites. Birds like hawks…they loved fish. Though many creatures in Westeros hunted fish as well, not just birds. There were bears…and…

And lions.

It took a moment before she did look Catelyn kept stitching, even when she pricked her finger with the needle and drew blood.

“Rickon, don’t eat off the table.” She could see the shaggy haired boy, who shoved broken shells of acorns into his mouth. Her little boys had changed so drastically—changed into the winter.

But he shook his head before jumped off the table, knocked off the broken shells onto the floor. Her shaggy haired boy ran over, shoes clicking and clacking before he fell to his knees at her skirts. His hand gripped onto her skirts and Rickon stared at Shaggy Dog who started back all the same.

“Shh.” Her voice managed to keep its’ tenderness she’d given in Winterfell. Her fingers brushed his messy hair for a moment before she returned to her stitching. The crackle of the fireplace filled her ears momentarily until a thunder of a knock was at the door.

Catelyn felt like her heart had stopped. She swallowed her stitching was in her lap, head held high. Rickon gripped her skirts tighter and tugged while Shaggy Dog growled, already on alert. She could hear Rickon’s soft whining. She had heard her children's fear more than any mother should in a lifetime. Robb had whined at the wedding, she remembered, his voice was no louder than a whine then and it had made her numb all over and then rage.

Rickon’s whines grew louder and his little hand tugged as hard as it could at her skirts, his doe eyes stared up at her and yet Catelyn watched the door. The door was bolted shut from the inside in case the Freys…in case they found them. The castle was abandoned and no one was seen outside, those who scouted ahead and stayed behind were hidden. They had to be careful.

She remembered being told that the Freys had planned to slit her throat as they had the Stark men. She remembered Walder Frey telling her how he would have done the same if her daughters had been there. And Catelyn had wanted to burn him alive in that instant as she was dragged from her spot, put away like a bird in a cage. She had been lucky, loyal men had come to open her cage and pull her out, loyal men who told her she was lucky and they were honest men, loyal to the one true King—Robb Stark.

Catelyn had not felt lucky. Never, not even when her darling boys were thrusted into her arms and she could feel their hearts against her chest. When she knew they were alive and that the Gods had not taken them as they had taken Ned so easily.

“Shhh.” She repeated the hush gentle and calmly, her fingers in his hair. Catelyn stroked and waited for the door to bang but it did not.

Catelyn let her son tug and tug before she stood her hand no longer stroked his dirty, messy locks and remained still on his head and his whines were muffled when he turned his dirty, rosy face into her skirts, to hide his face.

“Hordor?” A voice came from behind the door.

And Catelyn shut her eyes tightly, let go the breath inside her that she had held since she stood. Her eyes opened partially “Hordor.” She reminded herself it was only him.

“Mother?” Bran was outside with him as well.

Bran was alive.

She reminded herself as her steps clicked and clacked when she walked to the door, little Rickon already on his feet, his hands fists as he held onto her as if she were everything.

Catelyn glanced down at him for a moment; she could see his angry glare at the door even though they both knew who was out there. The wood block that kept the door barred was heavy but she placed it on the table. Rickon had let go one of his tiny hands, off her skirts, tried to help. His pudgy fingers touched the wood just barely as she settled it on the table. The table scuffed the floor with the new added weight.

Her breath came quicker to her though as she reminded herself it was alright. Catelyn opened the door all the way to let the two inside of the room. Hordor came in, his feet tromped on the floor as he carried in Bran. Hordor seemed proud to be able to take care of her little wolf, all smiles and nods.

“Thank you, Hordor.”

Bran smiled at her some “Hordor wanted to come see you, Mother.” She saw how Bran looked at Rickon. Rickon frowned but hid his face in her skirts again, mumbled words she could not quite hear.

“It’s alright, Rickon. We’re back.” Bran assured him. Rickon mumbled.

“Mother, can we rest in here? You could teach us the stitching again. Or about the Tully history, if I’m going to be Lord of Winterfell, I should know?” Bran’s voice was soft and gentle and kind.

“That’s alright, Bran…” Catelyn stroked Rickon’s hair some before she guided him back to his seat.

She saw his puzzled face change to a pout but he reluctantly let go and sat on the small chair. The floorboards creaked and cracked as Hordor moved before he placed Bran down on the bed in the corner before he took two steps away, his head down and eyes glanced up occasionally at them all. Catelyn went back to the door behind them.

“Is there any word from anyone?” Bran tried to sit up some, Hordor moved to help “I’m alright.” He smiled some at Hordor.

“Hordor.” The bigger man nodded before he stepped away again.

“No word.” Catelyn walked to her seat, gathered the stitching into her hands. She headed to the window, and peered out. No one was in the courtyard, which was to be expected, and no one was out beyond the castle grounds. This was no surprise but she pulled the curtain close, to hide away the sunlight.

She looked back at him “Bran, you should…you should eat. Keep your strength.” Catelyn picked up the bowl of acorns. She handed him the bowl and he shook his head.

“It’s alright, Mother. You don’t have to. You should rest.” Her smiling boy let her know.

Catelyn nodded though she did not smile like before, placed the bowl onto the table beside Rickon. The shaggy boy gathered the bowl into his lap quickly, already munching on the acorns and smiling to himself. She had to smile that time, it was a nice, rare sight after all. She had not seen her boys smile as much since arriving. Bran hadn’t smiled at all when he clasped his arms around her, not wanting to let go for the longest. Catelyn had to remind him several times she was alright but then Rickon asked for Robb.

And Bran reminded him.

And all the smiles had faded around her, Rickon’s smile as well.

Catelyn had to shake her head, to remember to be stay in the present. She could not let herself grow too attach to the past, to protect her boys and her…her home. She had to remember the North. Catelyn wouldn’t forget. The North would remember. She would go on and she would remember. The stones made click clacks when her shoes went across them, she stood beside Rickon again and placed a kiss upon his head.

Her little shaggy wolf kept munching on the acorns happily so.

“Lady Stark—“

There were shouts from the hall. Catelyn looked away from her children, to the door. She had not put the block back to the door…

She stood straight and “What is the matter?” Her voice cracked. Her throat dry.

“Lannister men, they come from the south—“

Catelyn stood where she was, her hand on Rickon’s head and Bran not too far from her. Hordor already stepped forward, though she did not look at him. Her lips remained thin and pressed together; when she swallowed her throat was still dry. It was her dream from the night before that came back ringing loud in her ears, the words that Ned had said to her in hushed whispers, it deafened the shouts of her name from the hall.

_And they came from the South, like lions._


	2. Month of the North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.

* * *

 

When they came from the South, they wore their lions on their armor and their helmets and swords. House Lannister sweated over no expense when it came to being known as golden, further than for golden coin and golden locks upon their bodies. They came from the South and they were led by the greatest cat, the cat seen as the strongest of House Lannister by those in King’s Landing, his cloak of red and his armor of black.

His eyes must have been bright and round as they looked upon the castle, he had not sent another in his place. Tywin Lannister came on his own accord and his alone.

“Mother…Are they going to kill us?” Catelyn could hear her Bran whisper from his corner. He held little Rickon in his arms, embraced his little brother with such tenderness and sincerity, he was protective of him as Robb had been protective.

Catelyn had wanted to move them, her little wolfs and men, there was no chance to take an entire Lannister army with only little men here at the abandoned castle. But the Lannisters had already come over the hill before they could do much; they were trapped inside the castle. She wondered who had let their tongue flap and flap until words reached Tywin Lannister’s ears. She had peeled the curtains back barely to look, on her knees and the shadows hid them now the candles were no longer lit.

“Shh, Bran.” Catelyn watched as Tywin Lannister marched to the front of his army properly. He stood tall and gallant for a man of his age. She felt the blood boil inside her and her wrath had spiked at the sight of a lion at her gates. She had seen lions circle her family time and time again. Her Sansa had been at the mercy of them as she was gripped in the lions’ paws tightly. Her Sansa and her Robb and her Arya—they had all been hurt by lions.

And today would not be another day where her children were hurt in the name of war and divine right.

“Mother…” Bran again called for her. But she shook her head and kept watch.

They had come from the South, from King’s Landing. She thought Tywin Lannister too busy as Hand of the King surely. Who had been placed in his spot while his temporary leave? Tyrion Lannister? No, he was gone. Tyrion had fled to the free cities, or so she had heard through streams and loose tongues on the way from House Frey’s Twins and cages. Varys, perhaps. It did not matter.

“They have come.” Catelyn whispered, mostly to herself in this moment. Bran held his little brother tighter as Rickon whined into his brother’s shoulder. Shaggy Dog whined in a similar way from his spot.

“Tywin Lannister, Mother?” Bran whispered.

She pressed her palm upon the stoned wall, felt every cool round stone against her palm and it felt like a heartbeat as the Lannister moved across the lands, further towards the castle they lurked inside. Their feet trampled the flowers and the grass, made thuds and shakes. She could have sworn it was a heartbeat with how her hand stayed pressed upon the stone. Catelyn had a moment of dread and wondered if this was Tywin Lannister’s heartbeat, his boots that shook the ground. That would be childish however, to think such things, only a child would believe that Tywin Lannister was any more than a man.

A  golden man.

“The father.” Catelyn bit the inside of her cheek. She was not sure if she had actually said the words or not.

_The Father._

Tywin Lannister.

He was much more than a father.

And he had come to this specific castle, he had known and he had crossed hills after hills, to find the Stark survivors, those last of House Stark and take the North. Was that not the wish of the King on the Iron Throne? How Joffrey must have hooted and hollered for all their heads? Catelyn could think no less of Joffrey even if she tried; her thoughts on the golden prince had already been at the bottom when he first arrived with all the other pretty cats in Winterfell. Catelyn had smiled and bowed like the rest of her family to the former King Robert Baratheon.

“Come here, my boys.” Catelyn gently moved Bran some, held her shaggy boys in her arms tightly.

Her little wolf boys held onto her tightly and she stared at nothing. She did not even look at the door, arms around her boys and her chin on Bran’s head. She could hear Rickon’s murmurs and Bran’s whispers. She could not hear the words clearly, not from them, but she listened to the outside. To see if anyone would speak, if anything would be said by Tywin Lannister or else his lion men.

Catelyn shut her eyes and it had felt like forever by the time her eyes opened for a second time. She could feel the hands around her throat as they had been at the feast and Catelyn forgot herself for a moment, felt as though Walder Frey’s men would burst through the door and rip her precious boys from her. Her grip tightened some on Bran and Rickon, enough for Bran to look up at her with great concern. Catelyn stared at the door now, and stared and stared. Her throat was still dry.

Not her boys, not her boys….not her boys…

The door thudded hard. The heavy plank had been put back in place to secure the door. It would only hold for so long if Tywin Lannister decided he wanted to go through it. The plank could only take so much. The thuds to the door came harder each time and she turned her boys’ faces away, to hide them away.

“Bran…” Her ability to speak in the moment hushed. Her heart pounded much like how it felt when her hand had been against the stone wall.

Nevertheless Bran was stubborn and looked no matter how she urged him not to. One of her hands gripped Rickon’s arm and the other was at Bran’s head, she could hear the soft noises from her left that came from Hordor and Shaggy Dog’s whines softened some into nothing. Shaggy Dog would bark at those who came to harm.

And somehow, Catelyn feared what it meant when he did not bark.

“My lady…” A voice came from behind the door and the thuds came.

She did not answer.

“Lady Stark…” The voice was soft and frightened. Small.  
  
“Lord Tywin has ordered that all of the castle’s residents to present themselves and surrender.” The voice sounded stressed “There are not enough men, my lady.”

Catelyn could have burned the door if looks could do so. She held onto her children still.

“My lady…Lord Tywin asks of your presence most importantly.”

And Catelyn let out the breath she had held in since she held her children to her chest. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to turn and nowhere to stop. It was the lions’ who dipped their paws into the water to find the fish and instead found wolves, Catelyn would remember that. Her hands pulled away from her boys’ before she stood slowly, her hands at her sides and then she walked. Her steps careful and the plank were in her arms within seconds and placed upon the table.

“Lord Tywin shall have us then.” Catelyn turned and walked back to the others. She cleared her throat as she picked up her son, Rickon, held him close to her chest, one of her hands at his head—gentle and caressed his messy locks.

“Hordor, carry my son.” Her voice was not stressed like the one behind the door.

Hordor nodded “Hordor.” And picked Bran back up carefully. It was not questioned.

“Mother—“ Bran tried to get her to look at him however Catelyn shook her head. She shifted Rickon some in her arms, he hid his face partially on her shoulder.

“Listen to your mother, Bran.”

Catelyn blinked a few times in advance, in case she had to stare Tywin Lannister in the eye. Catelyn would not flinch away from the man of Casterly Rock. He was only a man, she repeated to herself, only a man that took the image of a man. He was no god; he was nothing more than a man. And men can be killed. Men can fall. Even Tywin Lannister.

“Follow.” Her voice soft.

She moved forward, Rickon still in her arms. Shaggy Dog followed behind and then Hordor with Bran in his arms. They stepped into the hallway, Lannister men there already. Lannister glistened in their armor and their swords and who stared at them all. Some seemed surprised and others did not seem to care at all. The Lannister men did not grab her or shove, they guided and muttered and murmured soft things about Wolves and poor dead Ned Stark. She ignored them. Rickon ignored them. Bran ignored them.

“Lady Stark.” Tywin Lannister was the first to speak clearly to her when they were guided into the courtyard, the same courtyard that had been bare earlier in the hours. She remembered.

“I am appeased that you listened to what was asked of you.”

Tywin Lannister stood, no longer mounted on his horse, and stood tall he did. His armor glistened like his lion men, and his head was held high. He wore no gloves or sword. He kept his cloak of red and his straight laced expression. He did not frown however—he was no Stannis Baratheon.

“What was asked.” Catelyn repeated the words out loud. She blinked.

_What was asked._

Catelyn had his words circle inside her, around and around until they knotted up and pushed against her head. It made pain come back, raw and bleed from her cheeks and throat. She did not like this feeling and would never be used to it. Not ever.

“You fled the dungeons of House Frey.” As if it were not fact “And escaped right under the nose of Walder Frey.” As if it were not real.

Catelyn said nothing.

“As I said, Lady Stark, I am appeased.” Tywin kept using that word though she was not sure if he knew exactly what it meant. Catelyn held her Rickon in her arms, and Bran was held by Hordor at her side. She had her boys and Tywin Lannister would not have any more Stark boys in his wet paws.


End file.
